


what the heart wants

by fortunati



Category: The Diviners Series - Libba Bray
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Canon Depressed Character(s), Don't Ask, F/M, Fluff, References to Depression, Roundabout Declarations of Love, Sharing a Bed, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, idk when this is set
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 23:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunati/pseuds/fortunati
Summary: He didn't know what to do with himself around Evie O'Neill and that was the heart of the matter.-Two times Evie slept in Sam's bed, and one time he slept in hers.





	what the heart wants

**Author's Note:**

> it's a crime that there are so few diviners fics on ao3 and i aim to change that and im also broken because i finished before the devil breaks you and im coping the only way i know how (vaguely anachronistic time periods where it definitely isn't modern au but it's not exactly 1920's New York, and somehow it also doesn't really fit into canon? this is where i live now)

He didn't know what to do with himself around Evie O'Neill and that was the heart of the matter.

And it was down-right  _ unnecessary  _ how everything inevitably came back to her, and he was sick of it, and that’s what seemed to make her so great, honestly. She was the center of the whole world, and she liked to act like she was, but it was an act and she didn’t believe it, but really, she was. It disgusted him. It made him trip over himself whenever she was around him, made him dizzy with her perfume, intoxicating. It made him stupid, say stupid things, do stupid things. 

What wasn’t stupid was sitting next to her on Theta’s bathroom floor, or helping her to her feet after she collasped outside in the rain after a fight with her Uncle Will, or following her outside during a party when she looked overwhelmed and slipped out by herself.

Evie was sitting on the sidewalk, head pressed against the brick wall, the damp concrete effectively ruining her sequined dress and not caring, which immediately alerted him to the fact that she was not, in fact, alright. Sam shoved his hands in his pockets.

“‘S not safe for you out here alone, y’know,” he said gently, wandering closer. Evie lolled her head to the side to look at him, and then turned away.

“I can take care of myself,” she said, but there was something else stirring in her voice that asked him not to leave. He sat next to her, watched her hunch her shoulders and wrap her arms around her knees.

“I know you can,” he said. She still wouldn’t look at him. A breeze swept through the alley, and Evie shivered, her spaghetti strap dress not doing much to ward off the chill. She shivered. It took exactly zero brain cells and even less effort from Sam to drape his jacket over her shoulders. Evie tensed, for just a moment, and peered over her elbow at him, baby blues blinking in what almost looked liked confusion before turning back away, pulling his coat around her shoulders.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asked softly, and meant it. He reached for her shoulder, stopped, hesitated, and pulled back. When Evie finally turned to face him, he was taken aback by the tears welling up in her eyes. He did reach for her then, curling his fingers across her shoulder blades. “Hey, whassamatter?”

‘D’you ever just feel like- like a big phoney?” she asked, voice thick and hesitant. “Like nothing you do is really real?”

“All the damn time,” Sam answered, brows furrowed as he slid closer. He reached out his other arm, taking careful, gentle hold of her shoulders. “What’s got you so down, doll?"

Evie let herself be pulled into his arms, half on top of him, still blinking and melancholy, and tucked her face against his shoulder. Her hands wormed their way around his suspenders, fingers tucking underneath them. Sam put his hands on her back and pressed his cheek into the top of her curly head.

“Life,” she answered, finally, simply.

“Life’s a bitch,” he agreed, arms tightening around her as the breeze picked up. “You wanna ankle?”

“Please.”

Sam stood, pulling her up with him, steadying her with a hand on her elbow and the other on her hip. He quickly redacted the hand on her hip, and flicked a stray curl from her forehead. 

“Where to, Your Majesty?” he asked with a grin, hoping to pull a smile from her. He almost succeeded, a smile flickering at the edge of her lips, but then her eyes went distant, and the phantom smile disappeared. “Hey, c’mon. You wanna go back to your place? Theta’s? Mine is a mess, honestly, I dunno how Memphis can handle it,” he laughed, then stopped. Evie leaned into him. 

“I don’t want to be alone,” she said, looking up at him with her big, sad, blue eyes, and Sam swore mentally. There was no saying no to that look

“Well,” he said. “My place is only a few blocks away.”

-

“... and that’s how I found out you do  _ not  _ eat marshmallow fluff and pickles at the same time,” Sam finished his story with a flourish as he kicked open the door to his and Memphis’s apartment and usher Evie in. 

Evie made a face, groaning, and jabbed him in the stomach.

“If you ever tell me that story ever again, I will personally lock you somewhere you will never see the light of day again, Sam Lloyd,” Evie glared, and Sam put his unoccupied hand to his heart.

“You wound me. In here,” he said, changing the subject seamlessly as he steers her into his room. He kicks a dirty pair of shorts out of the doorway, and knocks his shoes off his bed, then rummages in his drawers for cleans clothes for Evie to change into. She takes what he offers and stares first at them, and then at him.

“Out,” she said, and Sam didn’t even make any quips as he left quietly, shutting the door behind him to head to the kitchen to put on a pot of water for cocoa. Evie stood in the middle of his room and stared at the clothes in her hands: a soft gray pullover sweater and a pair of scarlet boxers. She very determinedly does not blush, and fumbles with her dress. She will not ask Sam Lloyd for help, she will not ask Sam Lloyd for help, she will  _ not _ -

“Sam?” she called very meekly, and very embarrassed, but she couldn’t even get in the dress without help, much less out. Sam appeared in the doorway, suspenders loose around his waist, dress shirt off and only a white undershirt on underneath. 

“Yeah? Aw, you stuck?” he smirked. Evie glared, and cursed her fair skin that blushed so easily. 

“Just help me out of it before I murder you.”

Sam laughed, but did as she said, and tugged the zipper down with ease. She almost wanted to hate how he didn't even brush against her skin. All she felt was the prickling feeling just above her skin where she knew his fingers were.

“There you go, sweetheart. Good as new.” And then she was shoving him back out and slamming the door.

When she finally emerged, she was no longer in her ruined party dress, and Sam almost regretted letting her wear his clothes. He set two mismatched mugs of hot cocoa on the table, passed her the mini marshmallows, and settled in the wobbly chair across from her. Evie took the lumpy blue mug he put in front of her, crossing her feet under her legs as she sat, and dumped a generous amount of marshmallows into her cocoa.

“Don’t think you can bribe me with cocoa, Sam Lloyd,” she said with a warning glare, even as she took a sip. Sam grinned.

“What about spiked cocoa?”

Evie glared, and took another sip. Sam deflated.

“Listen, Evie,” he began, after a long sip of cocoa. “I just want to help.”

Evie twisted her mouth up, and looked away.

“Yeah, I know you do.”

“Can’t do that if you won’t let us,” he reminded her gently. Evie looked at him from under her lashes, an almost-glare.

“Know that, too.”

“Just-” Sam sighed. “Okay. Fine. Just don’t push us out,” he pleaded. He knocked back the rest of his coca. “I’m going to bed.”

He left Evie sitting at the secondhand table with three mismatched chairs, and threw himself onto his bed. He couldn’t bother to pull the blankets up, not when he was agitated so. He wondered if Evie would crawl into bed next to him, and then immediately dismissed the thought. Evie was his friend, strictly business. She’d probably rather die than cuddle him, he thought with a sour taste in his mouth he wished would leave. He pushed onto one elbow, punched his pillow, and rolled over to face the wall. Let her sulk in his kitchen, drinking his coca, and eating his marshmallows. Let her wear his clothes, and wrap his scent around her like a blanket, and then actually draw his blanket around her shoulders and sleep on his couch (it was actually Memphis’s couch, but who was counting.)

-

Sam was drifting just this side of unconsciousness when he felt the bed dip, the covers shift and pull, dragging over his body, and then the soft warmth of Evie’s body curl around his own. Fuck, he thought distantly, as Evie pressed her nose against his spine and began to sleep. Fuck.

He was so stupid. 

-

When Evie woke, she was alone, and the sheets were still warm. She burrowed her face into Sam’s pillow that smelled like his spicy aftershave. She liked the way Sam Lloyd smelled - like his aftershave, and butterscotch, and newspapers. She groaned. She thought she might still be drunk.

Then the bathroom door opened, and light spilled out and Evie was definitely hungover and she groaned again, loudly.

“Turn off the light, turn off the light!” she demanded, considering throwing the pillow at him, but then she wouldn’t have anywhere to hide her face. 

Sam laughed, flicked the light off, and Evie peeked over her arm. Sam was wet. His hair was plastered to his forehead, dripping, and she watched a drop of water roll down his spine and into the waistband of his pants, and tucked her face into her arm and the pillow again to hide her blush. 

“How you feelin,’ doll?” Sam asked, and she felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge of it.

“Like a marching band took up residence in my head,” she grumbled.

“Sounds about right. I put aspirin and some water on the nightstand,” he said, and left the room. Evie waited until she was positive he was gone, then pushed up onto her elbow, swallowed the pills and chugged the glass of water. “When you’re feeling better, I have doughnuts in the kitchen,” he called from the room over, and Evie had to grin. Damn, but Sam knew her well.

By the time she’d made it into the kitchen, Sam was on the couch, legs stretched out the length of it as he browsed the paper. She helped herself to her choice of fresh doughnuts from the box, and then to a cup of coffee, dumping in generous spoonfuls of sugar. She walked over to the sofa, and kicked Sam until he moved his feet so she could sit. He immediately put his feet in her lap. Ignoring her sounds of disgust, Sam grinned.

“Gonna give yourself a cavity with all that sugar."

“Like you care,” she glared. She almost missed the flicker of hurt that flashed across Sam’s face before he hid it, but not quite. It made her wish she could read his mind, right now. 

“Course I care,” Sam said, but the words were wrong, like he said it the wrong way, out of order, or something else she couldn’t place. “Then I wouldn’t have someone to get me in all the swell joints around here.”

Evie only took a big bite of doughnut and watched Sam’s face very carefully. She hated what she was about to do.

“Thank you.”

Sam looked up.

“What?”

Evie bristled.

“You heard me. Don’t make me say it again.”

Sam held up his hands in surrender as he scooted up into more of a sitting position than lounging. 

“I’m not teasing. I just wanted to make sure I heard you right.” He stopped talking, and neither of them said anything. Then, “You’re welcome.”

-

Evie ended up staying all day at Sam’s.

“Mabel is out with Arthur, Theta’s off with Memphis, Henry and Ling are doing whatever it is they do, so I guess it’s you and me, Lloyd. Hope you don’t sit around being boring because I am pos-i-tute-ly in no state to be seen.”

Sam levelled her a look that made her start to regret her resolve of staying in with Sam. 

“Guess that gives us time to talk about last night.”

Evie was instantly cagey. 

“What about it?” she demanded. “How swell it was?”

Sam almost looked disappointed. He turned away. 

“Wait- Sam-” 

He looked back at her, brown eyes big and full of some emotion Evie couldn’t - or didn’t have the guts - to name.  _ Ikh hab dihk lib.  _ He still hadn’t told her what that meant. 

“One minute you’re the life of the party and the next minute you’re down in the dumps. I’m here, Evie. I always will be."

It was enough to make her burst into tears. Nobody ever stuck around. It was why she had to keep moving, why the party had to keep going. Everybody always left, in the end, somehow or other, and she didn’t want to lose Sam too. 

“Don’t do this to yourself, Evie.”

She wanted to fling herself into his arms. He understood her like nobody else did, accepted all of her, no matter what, and never asked her to change. Understood that she wasn’t going to, and couldn’t change. She loved the way he said her name, like no one else ever had. She wished she weren’t broken the way she was. 

Evie let Sam hold her close. And she stayed all day.

-

Evie stayed all night, too, and then time, Sam held the covers up for her to slide in next to him, because neither of them wanted to be alone, and ghosts haunted more than just streets. She slide in next to him, and let him tuck himself around her and hold her close to his chest.

-

She went home the next morning, and spent time with Mabel and Theta, visited Ling and Alma, saw Henry and David. Had a drink, and a fantastic lunch, and saw a picture. She was spending money she didn’t have, and couldn’t make herself care.

Sam Lloyd was too much. She could only handle him in small doses because she was afraid of what would happen if she nursed him like a beer, instead of taking him like a shot. The depth and intensity of her emotions, of what he made her  _ feel _ scared her. Who knew she was capable of  _ feeling  _ so much.

He was waiting when she got home. 

“How’d you get in?” she demanded, instantly angry, because she was still dealing with everything that had happened - she wasn’t ready to see him yet. 

“I’m a thief, Lamb Chop,” he said, like that answered the question (it did.) Evie scowled. 

“I should call the cops on you,” she said, throwing her clutch at him. Sam dodged it easily. 

“They’ll just call you crazy when there’s no one here.”

Evie huffed and turned to storm into her room, but Sam caught her wrist. His fingers on the delicate skin on her wrist, easy enough to slip out of - he wasn’t going to make her stay - was enough to make her stop. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t mean to rile you. It’s just a reflex.”

Evie decided to allow him the victory of looking at him. 

“Why?” she asked. Why is it so easy to fight with him, why does he do it. Sam shrugged helplessly.

“I thought it would make me less likely to…” he stopped, a half finished sentence.

“Less likely to what?” Evie asked, drawing a little nearer, her head still caught in his.

“Less likely to fall in love,” Sam said, looking at her under his lashes with his big doe eyes, and Evie cursed the flutter of her heart. 

She kissed him. Sam kissed her back. 

“Well, that wasn’t very smart, now was it?” she asked, drawing back, and Sam stared at her for a long moment before gathering her back up in his arms and kissing her again.

It was everything she ever wanted and everything she never expected.

-

Evie woke the next morning before the sun had risen all the way, and all she did was snuggle deeper into Sam’s chest. She could definitely get used to it.


End file.
